


Midnight Snack

by wolfrider89 (rustypeopleskillz)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustypeopleskillz/pseuds/wolfrider89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared has a bit of a sweet tooth, which makes it totally OK to sneak to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a snack. Then there's a storm, and some hugging, and just general fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/profile)[**dazedrose**](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/) in the [](http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/profile)[**spnspringfling**](http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/) challenge. The prompts were "storms", "midnight snacks" and "conquering fears and getting rewards". So, of course, I named it "Midnight Snack". I do have an imagination, I promise. ;)

  
OK, Jared admits it: He has a sweet tooth. It's not a crime, right? And while Jensen snorts whenever Jared says that he's a growing boy, the fact is that he _is_. Ish. He could still be growing at 28. So it's not so strange that he sneaks into the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab something to eat. Really, it isn't.

The house is quiet, the hum of electrical appliances and the creak of the wooden floor the only sounds loud enough to register. Misha swears he's going to do something about that creak any day now, since it's damaging his semi-dormant carpenter sensibilities just by its existence, but Jared kind of likes it. It gives the place a personality. He hasn't told Misha that, though, because carpenter sensibilities are not to be trifled with, semi-dormant or not. He learned that the hard way when he dared to suggest that maybe it didn't matter that one of the kitchen chairs was missing one of its rungs. He has no desire to relive that particular rant.

The dogs wake up as he tiptoes past them, but they don't rise, far too used to his nocturnal escapades to think it strange. Maybe he has a problem. At least the dogs don't judge him for it. Icarus even gives him the doggie version of a smile, all lolling tongue and wagging tail, which Jared takes as encouragement. He continues his quest for ice cream.

As he reaches the kitchen, bypassing the light switch to head straight for the freezer, rain starts to fall outside. And not just soft, pattering rain, either, but fat drops that beat against the roof and the windows, and it's like someone suddenly turned the volume up to maximum, a bass beat against his eardrums.

“Shit,” Jared whispers, because Jensen had been beyond exhausted when they went to bed, and Misha has to get up at 5 a.m. for his traditional end of term OMG-Professor-I'm-freaking-the-hell-out office hours, and the rain is _really_ loud. He hopes they can sleep through it, hopes it so hard that he's not at all surprised when thunder starts up. He sighs, but he can't fight the smile that breaks out on his face. Jared is a fan of thunder. He likes the powerful rumbles, the flashes of lightning, the way Mother Nature can rage so beautifully. He grabs the ice cream and a spoon and goes to watch through the kitchen window, feeling elated and not in the least bit tired.

He startles when he feels a hand on his waist, almost dropping the ice cream in his haste to turn around. It's just Misha, pale in the darkness, his eyes wide and a little bit too alert for someone who just woke up.

“Hey,” Jared says, just loud enough to be heard over a roll of thunder. “You OK?”

If it wasn't the middle of the night and thunder wasn't nearly making them both deaf, Misha would have responded with something glib, would have brushed it off with a laugh. He told Jared once that it’s not that he doesn’t _want_ to tell them his problems, it's just that he has this built-in defense system that kicks in before he can help it. He'll joke and roll his eyes and try to talk about something else, and Jared will have to cajole and nag until Misha divulges what's wrong. Sometimes he even has to team up with Jensen to get anywhere. Not now, though. Now, Misha just shakes his head in mute denial and flinches at a flash of lightning.

Jared puts the ice cream on the nearest flat surface and pulls him into a hug, not needing to ask what's wrong. He's seen Misha like this before, when twisters raged outside Jensen's parents' house in Texas one summer, or when lightning struck a power station somewhere close by and plunged their whole street into darkness two years ago. He knows what's wrong, so he just holds Misha, feeling him cling to his t-shirt and bury his face under Jared's chin, like he can hide from his irrational fears in the rasp of Jared's stubble.

Jared closes his eyes, holds on, and listens to the weather doing its best to get inside and make them pay for daring to be warm and dry on a night like this. Misha shudders against him, so Jared holds on tighter and strokes a hand over his back, repeating the motion over and over, a rhythm of comfort against Misha's cool skin.

When Jensen joins them, Jared opens his eyes to smile at him, including him in the hug with practiced ease, not bothering to ask what woke him. Jensen can't sleep in an empty bed, and they all know it. He needs the comforting sound of breathing close by, be it human or dog, or he’ll wake up and be unable to go back to sleep. Misha must have been really scared; otherwise he wouldn't have left him alone to go in search of waking company. Jared twines his fingers into Jensen's sleep-mussed hair and places a kiss on Misha's temple, just holding them.

The thunder slowly passes, and Jared is relieved. As much as he loves it, it's hard to enjoy it when every crack and growl makes Misha shudder against him, makes his fingers tighten in Jared's t-shirt. Jensen has taken to mumbling soft words into Misha's hair, his arms covering Misha's where they're wrapped around Jared, and finally, finally Misha relaxes, his breathing slowing down and his body slumping within their embrace.

“This is so embarrassing,” he says against Jared's neck, but he doesn't sound very embarrassed; just tired. Jensen snorts and rubs the tip of his nose against Misha's ear.

“No more embarrassing than Jared singing in the shower,” he teases, his mouth quirking in amusement.

“Hey!” Jared says in mock affront, trying to keep the smile off his face.

“That's true,” Misha agrees. Jared feels him grin against his skin. “There's nothing more embarrassing than that.”

“I'll have you know that I have an awesome singing voice. You two are just too uncultured to recognize it.”

Jensen, who _does_ have an awesome singing voice, just laughs and hugs them both tighter, his fingers lacing with Misha's on Jared's back.

“Let's go to bed,” he says, but he doesn't move.

“Yeah, OK,” Jared agrees, resting his cheek on Misha's head. Misha just hums his assent, his breath warm against Jared’s collarbone.

They stand like that for a long time while the rain beats against the windows and Jared's ice cream melts on the counter. When they finally make it back to bed, the rain has quieted to a gentle patter that only lulls them back to sleep.  



End file.
